Bitter Fingers
by WarrinPeace
Summary: Mutt's back in school, but he's having a pretty awful go at it. Please make sure to see the Author Notes for warnings!-ON HOLD
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. No money is being made off this story, it's just for fun.

Author Notes: This idea is something I was wrestling with for a long time, and I just need to thank Beguile who as my Beta Reader basically held my hand and encouraged me the entire way, so not only does she have my undying love and devotion, but she basically owns me now. This story deals with Corporal Punishment, and may in future chapters get a little violent and rough. Please take this as your advisory.

Chapter 1: The Cut

Henry "Mutt" Jones leaned against the sink in the empty boys' bathroom, a slightly bloody paper towel clenched in his left hand. The second floor bathroom was more often than not deserted, which was why Mutt came here.

It had begun simply enough, if Professor Jonathan Xanderson felt you were goofing off in his English class, he would give you a rap with a ruler on their hands or wrists. Yet after years of being a teacher, it seemed that power had gone to his head. When Xanderson decided he did not like a student, the hits became harder, and more frequent. Unfortunately for Mutt, Xanderson did not like him.

Mutt took a moment to study the cut in the palm of his hand. The cut was no longer bleeding, but when he tried making a fist experimentally blood began to ooze out of the wound once more.

Mutt gave a dejected sigh and pushed the paper towel back into his hand. It would clot soon enough. His more pressing problem was what to tell his parents. He could not very well tell them he was hit because he was copying his notes down to fast. That excuse was lame even to his ears, even if that was exactly what had happened. His parents would never believe he hadn't done something to provoke it. To make matters worse, Mutt was a bad liar. His mother had always been able to see right through any lie he tried to tell. Anything he told them would only lead to disappointment. He was trying to do

right by his parents, he was going to school, he was bringing home fairly good grades, he could handle this.

He studied the cut again. It wasn't big enough to draw a ton of attention as long as he could cover it up first. If he could keep his parents from seeing the palm of his hand, even better. If they couldn't see it, he could explain it away with an accident. His parents wouldn't think twice about that. He could just ask the school nurse for a large band aid.

With that worry shoved to the back of his mind, Mutt tossed out the bloodied paper towel before shouldering his book bag and heading back towards the ground floor. He would make it down just in time for the lunch bell to end, and then he would only need to make it through two more classes before he could finally go home. He made a quick detour to get the band aid from the nurse before slowly making his way down to the lunchroom. He wouldn't have time to eat but at least no one would ask him where he was the whole time. By the time the day was finally over, Mutt wanted nothing more than to go

home, pull the sheets up over his head and never get up. His hand was throbbing due to the constant use of it, and he knew it was only going to get worse trying to ride his motorcycle home. He sighed, kicking a loose pebble as he went. At least it was not bleeding through the bandage. Once he finished his homework and had dinner he could finally stop and relax.

He slid onto his motorcycle before roaring out of the schools parking lot. Mutt had bellowed out he was home, before pounding down the hall into his room. As was his habit, he started on his homework immediately. This was not something his father had insisted upon, just something Mutt did. He would rather get it all out of the way so he could do whatever he wanted after dinner. He had almost finished when his mother called him for dinner. He slid easily into his normal seat, sliding his hands down into his lap.

Dinner went smoothly, he listened to his parents make small talk about their work day, answering any questions they sent his way. He picked at his food, it wasn't that the food wasn't good, he just had no real appetite. His mother barely noticed as she chatted away with his father, but he would shovel a bit of food into his mouth, whenever his father frowned at the amount of food on his plate. When his mother asked him to do the dishes before finishing up his homework, he agreed a little too quickly. His father sent him a suspicious glance, but Mutt shrugged it off, collecting the plates as his parents moved off to continue their talk.

Mutt was almost done with the dishes, drying off a glass when he accidentally struck his cut with the rim of the glass. Before he could stop himself he let out a small gasp and the glass slipped from his fingers, and shattered on the floor. He stifled a groan, and grabbed a dustpan and small broom before kneeling down to clean up the glass.

He heard the heavy footfalls of his father, feeling before seeing him appear in the doorway. He glanced up and forced himself to give his father a sheepish look. He opened his mouth to apologize, but his father spoke before he could.

"What happened to your hand?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dislcaimer: I own no one your recognize.

Author Notes: Thank you to Beguile once again, for beta reading for me! Thank you to all the reviewers who have enjoyed this story so far, here's the next chapter!

Chapter Two-The Lie

_"What happened to your hand?"_

Mutt froze in his sweeping motion before looking down were the band aid lay exposed for all to see. The edges were beginning to fray away from his skin. Thankfully the cut was not exposed. Mutt forced himself to give his father another slightly sheepish look, and hoped he would buy the story he had come up with.

"I had a small accident at school is all," he told him, in what he hoped to be a flippant tone. He finished sweeping up the broken glass, moving to trash to dispose of it, hoping his father would believe him.

"What kind of accident?" Indiana asked, watching his son's movements. Something about his son's demeanor didn't sit right with him. Mutt normally didn't care that much about having Indy around. He was almost giving off the vibe that he wanted to be as far away from his father as humanly possible.

"We were doing some dissections in biology and my lab partner left the scalpel blade side up. I wasn't paying attention and nicked myself with it. The nurse bandaged it up and said I was fine," Mutt explained. That seemed like a believable enough story, he was sure that must have happened to people in the past. He fought the urge to shift under his father's scrutinizing look.

"Oh, well be more careful next time," his father said at last. Mutt was barely able to hold in the sigh of relief, his father had bought his excuse. Now all he had to do was be careful for the next few days. As long as he didn't come home with any other marks on him, he might be able to pull this off.

"I will. I'm sorry about breaking the glass," Mutt said, shifting his weight slightly. He just wanted to get out of there and go back to his room.

"It's alright, we have more," Indiana assured him, eyeing the bandaged hand that Mutt was quick to shield from view.

"I think I'm going to go finish my homework now, if that's ok," Mutt waited for Indiana to nod before turning and walking quickly out of the room. Indiana frowned at the sight. His son was keeping something from him, he could tell. Pushing the boy could put them in another fight, which he was trying to avoid. He had a nagging feeling that band aid wasn't covering a small puncture hole.

He had promised Marion he would not push him and to let Mutt come to him if he needed something, and he planned to honor that promise. He heard Mutt's bedroom door click shut and sighed before heading back towards the living room

to assure Marion that things were ok.

Mutt sighed as he pressed his back against the door, releasing the shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. That had been a far to close call for his liking. His father had either believed his story, or chosen to let it go, he was not sure which. Either way, he was glad he was not pressed on the matter, he was not sure how long he could have kept up the lie without giving himself away. He moved tiredly to his desk to finish his last bit of homework. He hissed through his teeth quietly as his hand clenched around his pencil. Once he was finally done, his hand was killing him and he decided to just call it an early night. He

quickly changed into his Pajamas and slid into bed, without even bothering to wish his parents a good night.

The next morning had come far to quickly for Mutt's liking, who had spent half the night tossing and turning restlessly. After picking at his breakfast, and avoiding questions of his well being from both his parents, he found himself sitting in his first period class. His hand was already throbbing and Mutt knew he was in for a really bad day. He was not mistaken. Xanderson was in a foul mood, and had taken to slamming his ruler down on students' desks or the occasional student's hand while they discussed the latest book they had read. He heard the ruler more than felt it as it connected with his shoulder. The sting followed moments later, the flat side at least. There would be no cut, but he was sure there would be a fairly awful bruise. Xanderson snapped something at him about paying attention before stalking off to the front of the room. The boy in the seat next to him gave him a

sympathetic and slightly horrified look before looking away.

By his last class, Mutt really was having a hard time paying attention. His hand was throbbing and his shoulder would sent a random, and painful reminder of the bruise that was rapidly growing there. He only had to hold out for another ten minutes, then school would be over and he would have an entire weekend to himself. The thing about time seemed to be that the more you wanted it to go, the slower it went. When the class was finally dismissed Mutt was ready to run all the way home just to get away from the dreaded building. He moved slowly to his bike wishing he had accepted his father's offer of a ride that morning. He finally settled onto his bike and left the school, glad to be away from it for two days.

All Mutt was going to have to do was convince his parents he was fine. Once he convinced them of that, they'd let him do what he wanted over the weekend. Maybe he could go see Oxley or hang out with a couple of the kids he knew from school, anything to get out of the house and away from the situation at school which was rapidly growing unbearable. Part of him just wanted to break down and tell his parents. He was convinced however his parents would see this as something Mutt had brought upon himself. Mutt must have provoked his teacher, done something to warrant such a punishment. The actual reasons would only

sound like bad excuses. With a sigh Mutt put his energy into making it seem like nothing was wrong, all he had to do was pull off one more lie, then he could stop feeling so guilty about it.

He hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

The Bruise

Mutt had made it through the rest of Friday with relative ease. He had finished his home work before dinner, and his parents hadn't questioned the tentative use of his bandaged hand. For a brief moment Mutt wondered if his father had spoken to his mother. If he had that would explain why she wasn't on him about his hand. He had gone to bed around eleven, too exhausted to stay in his parents company any longer. His parents had accepted his reasoning of wanting to get as much sleep on the weekend as he could get, and allowed him to go with no questions asked. He lay awake for several hours, staring at the ceiling. His shoulder was throbbing and no matter how he was laying, he couldn't seem to escape the discomfort. He finally dozed off around four in the morning.

Mutt woke to the sound of thunderstorms. Squinting he realized it was only eight in the morning, and unfortunately for him, he could not roll over and go back to sleep. Even if his shoulder wasn't causing him discomfort, which it was, once Mutt was awake, he stayed that way. He could not remember a time when that was not the case. He yawned, rolling onto his uninjured side, content to just lay in bed and listen to the rain fall for a while. After an hour, he got up and began to change, pausing to eye the bruise on his shoulder.

The bruise had turned ugly shades of red and black, and had spider legged across his shoulder and around the arm. He had never seen a bruise quite like that before, and found himself having to rip his eyes away. He pulled a shirt over his head to mask the damaged skin before shaking his head tiredly. Four hours of sleep wasn't much to go on, he'd just have to make due. He looked a little forlornly out at the storm. He had wanted to work on his bike today. Even though his motorcycle was under the overhang, he knew his parents wouldn't let him outside to work on it.

His parents were sitting in the living room in compatible silence. His father was grading papers and his mother was reading a magazine. He greeted them around a yawn falling into the closest chair. His mother looked up briefly, telling him there were eggs and bacon on the stove. He was about to shove himself back up to his feet to eat when his father spoke up.

"I moved your motorcycle into the garage," he told Mutt, glancing up at him. "I thought you might want to work on it today."

"Thanks Dad," Mutt said sincerely. He and Indiana did not always get along, but there were small moments like this that made them think maybe it would all work out. Indiana tried to hide his pleased smile when Mutt called him Dad. Normally it was old man, or pops; Dad was far and few between. Meanwhile, Mutt shuffled into the kitchen, content to eat breakfast and then go work on his motorcycle.

He spent Saturday working on his bike, he couldn't remember the last time he had really worked on it. He missed working on bikes. Maybe after the new terms grades came in his parents would let him start working part time at his old bike shop. The owner had kept his position open if he ever wanted to go back.

He spent Sunday morning and the early afternoon with Oxley, and found his parents waiting for him when he returned. His mother informed him she had a friend in the next town over who was about to have a baby any day now, and her husband had just walked out. She would be gone for a few days to help her. He had nodded letting his mother smother him with a hug and kiss before watching her leave. After she was gone, Mutt turned to his father.

"I think I'm going to go start on a project," he said glancing towards his door. The project wasn't due for another six weeks, but the sooner Mutt got it out of the way, the sooner he could do other things. Indiana nodded, watching his son retreat into his room. There was that sinking feeling again that Mutt just wanted to be away from his father. Indiana sighed thinking perhaps he was just being overly sensitive and moved to the den to work on his own papers. He had been working on them all weekend, it had been a dismal display at best for the most part. After two hours, Indiana had finally finished his own work, and glanced at the clock. Startled he realized it was almost seven in the evening. Marion had not left any instructions on what to do for dinner, so Indiana decided to have takeout.

He knocked once on Mutt's door to ask what he wanted and received no answer. Frowning slightly, Indiana knocked again, a little harder. Still receiving no reply, he pushed open the door and found Mutt asleep at his desk. His head was  
resting in the middle of a thick book, and his bandaged hang was curled around a pencil still. A slight smile tugged at Indiana's lips, half of him wanted to let the kid sleep, but he knew if he did that Mutt would be up at an insane hour in the morning.

"Kid, wake up," he called, but Mutt barely stirred. Indiana sighed, moving further into the room. "Mutt?" Still nothing from the sleeping youth. Indiana grabbed his shoulder to give him a shake. He recoiled as if burned when Mutt did the last thing he expected. His son let out an almost unearthly howl of pain before tilting sideways in an attempt to get away and toppling out of his chair and onto the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I still don't own anyone you recognize.

Author notes: I'm sorry this has taken so long. I've been stretched really thin lately. Hopefully things will settle down soon and I can write a little more swiftly. Thanks again to Beguile, who makes sure you can actually understand what I write.

Chapter 4 the Reveal

Mutt wasn't quite sure what had happened. One moment he was dreaming about Peru, the next, pain was radiating through his body. He could hear his own voice screaming as his eyes wrenched open and the floor rushed up to meet him. He lay for a moment, awkwardly crumpled on his side, breathing heavily. He blinked, trying to figure out what had happened. Mutt brought in a shaky breath and blinked furiously trying to rid his eyes of the rebellious tears. It took him longer than it should have to realize Indiana was staring at him. Mutt slowly pieced together what must have happened, he dozed off and his father must have grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. It dawned on him then, there could be no more lying, he was going to have to come clean now. Mutt swallowed thickly shaking his head as if to clear it.

Moving much quicker than Mutt thought necessary, Indiana had crossed behind the chair and dropped to his knees beside him. With effort, Mutt managed to get himself back into a sitting position. Indiana looked horrified, but was trying to quell his initial panic. That could be misinterpretted as anger, and that was the last thing they needed. Steeling himself, he reached forward and peeled the sleeve of Mutt's shirt away from his skin. It had taken a lot of self control on Mutt's part but he had not yanked out of his father's reach. He tensed slightly however, when he felt the fabric of his sleeve pull away and reveal the horrible bruise underneath. The panic rushed forward, and Indiana snapped the first thing that came to mind.

"What did you do?" Indiana demanded angrily, his eyes glued to the ugly mark on his son's skin. Mutt found himself unable to look at the discolored throbbing injury on his arm. He knew it was awful looking, he had seen it when he changed. He knew it would eventually fade to the blue and green of healing, but so far, it remained a strange disturbing combination of dark red and black.

Indiana's mind was reeling, this bruise looked bad enough that it could lead to something much worse. He suddenly had a text book explanation of what could happen if the bruise got any worse. _'Further bleeding and excess fluid may accumulate causing a hard, fluctuating lump or swelling hematoma,' _he rattled off in his head.

"I'm sorry," Mutt's voice sounded so small that Indiana couldn't help but suddenly feel quite awful. He let the sleeve fall, masking the horrible bruise.

"What happened?" He pressed, this time in a much gentler voice. Mutt took a deep breath, letting it out in a slow hiss.

"I got smacked with a ruler at school," he replied. "The teacher said I wasn't paying attention." Mutt steeled himself for the lecture he was certain he was about to receive. The silence he got however, was much worse. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if maybe he should apologize again.

"You mean to tell me, a teacher did that to you because you weren't paying attention?" Indiana asked in a tight voice. The anger he felt made his hands shake slightly. Mutt nodded miserably, and Indiana clenched his teeth for just a moment, before looking back at his son, who had found a sudden fascination with his shoes. It suddenly occurred to him that Mutt never said he wasn't actually paying attention, only that the teacher believed he wasn't.

"Kid, were you paying attention?" Another miserable nod was his answer, and Indiana forcibly reigned himself in. Flying off the handle was not what the kid needed right now. As it was, Mutt looked like he wanted nothing more than to crawl under his desk and die. Even if Mutt had not been paying attention, that kind of bruising meant he must have been hit very hard. Slowly, Indiana reached forward and took his son's wrist in his hand. Mutt flinched knowing what was about to happen, but didn't try and stop him. Indiana peeled back the bandage and saw the cut in his son's palm. It looked to be healing well enough, but that coupled with the light bruise around it looked like it would still hurt.

"So why don't you tell me how you really hurt your hand?" Indiana suggested in a tight voice.

"I was copying my notes down to fast," Mutt explained anxiously. "I'm sorry Dad, I really am. I shouldn't have lied to you I know that, I just panicked, I mean what happened sounds like a lame excuse even to me! I didn't think..." Mutt trailed off looking to his father very briefly before looking away.

"You didn't think I'd believe you," Indiana supplied, feeling worse than he had moments ago. Had he really screwed up so badly as a father, that his son didn't think he'd believe him if he showed him the horrible marks. Maybe he thought he'd think he deserved it. The thought sickened him, and Indiana had to take a deep soothing breath in to quell the nausea that suddenly reared up.

"I wouldn't have believed me," Mutt returned, shutting his eyes for a moment. Indiana was at a loss for what to do, Mutt looked so genuinely miserable. Finally Indiana released his son's wrist and sat back on his heels slightly.

"You should have just shown me," Indiana said softly. "I'd have believed that a teacher was punishing his students to an absurd degree." He shook his head. He wanted to scold his son further, but found he just didn't have the heart.

"I'm sorry," Mutt repeated, absently brushing his fingers over the bruise on his arm, trying to stop the throbbing.

"I know you are," Indiana said, pushing himself to his feet. "Why don't we get some ice for your shoulder and then get a new bandage for your hand before dinner. After we eat we can talk about what to do about this."

"Ok," Mutt agreed, using his desk to help get on his feet. Placing a hand gently on his son's uninjured shoulder Indiana guided him out of the room, suggesting a few places near by, though his appetite was gone. They were going to have to have a long talk when they returned, one neither of them was looking forward too.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I still don't own em.

Author Notes: I'm sorry this has taken so long to get out! I kept having a hard time finding the right words for it. This story will be finished, I promise you guys, so just bear with me! As always, thanks to my Beta Reader Beguile, to my loyal reviewers, and everyone who enjoys this story!

The Argument

After the slight first aid, the duo had gone to eat at the small diner just around the corner. Dinner had been an uncomfortable affair, the talk they were going to have to have hung heavy over their heads. Once they returned home, the pair made their way to the living room before settling in. Mutt slouched in the chair, looking very much like a scolded child, while Indiana

paced restlessly.

"Ok kid, let's talk," Indiana said finally, sitting down across from his son in one of the high backed chairs. Mutt looked up and Indiana sighed. He was going to have to direct most of this conversation.

"I really am sorry I lied to you." Mutt repeated earnestly, and Indiana could tell he meant it.

"I'll call the principal in the morning." Indiana told him. "If it's happening to you, I wouldn't be surprised if it was happening to other kids as well."

"No, don't do that," Mutt pleaded, his eyes portraying the mix of unease and frustration he clearly felt. "That will make things worse, all he'll get is a warning and you'll get the promise of them looking into it. He'll just get angry someone reported him!"

"What do you think we should do then?" Indiana asked more sarcastically then he meant to. "Just wait until he puts a kid in the hospital?"

"No," Mutt snapped back, before taking a deep soothing breath. "Let me handle it, if I can figure out who the others are, we can present a united front, one parent won't make much different, but several parents will." Indiana had to admit, that was a fairly good idea.

"We'll see." He replied. He would most likely put in a call to the principal in the morning, they could not just wave off a concerned parent.

"Just let me handle it." Mutt requested tiredly.

"You haven't exactly been handling it so far." Indiana pointed out.

"I handled it the best way I could." Mutt said, getting defensive. It wasn't as if he had intentionally gone out and tried to deceive his folks; he didn't think they'd believe him if he told them what was happening. To Mutt, that was a pretty big distinction.

"Oh yeah, letting it happen was brilliant of you." Indiana snapped in response. He almost instantly regretted saying it as his son looked wounded, and his fingers tightened around the arm rest.

"Oh yeah, I let it happen." Mutt replied, sarcasm dripping in his tone. "What did you want me to do pops? I was pretty sure you were gonna find a way to make it my fault anyhow."

"Oh, so it's because you have no faith in my parenting abilities that you decided to keep your mouth shut for once!" Indiana snapped back stung by his son's words. His brain seemed to be screaming at him to shut up, that he wasn't helping but his mouth was moving on its own. "That makes perfect sense!"

"Maybe if you weren't on my back all the time I wouldn't have thought that!" Mutt shouted, surging to his feet he did an about face. He was storming out of the room, when his father grabbed his arm to stall him. While his father had made the effort to grab his good arm, that did not soften the jostling pain of being jerked to a stop. The abrupt movement sent ripping waves of pain radiating down from the bruise to his wrist. He was glad his father could not see his face. He could feel the blood drain from it like a plug had been pulled. A strangled gasp of pain escaped his lips and he found himself blinking rapidly to clear his watering eyes.

"Jesus kid, I didn't mean to hurt you." Indiana was horrified, he really hadn't meant to hurt him, just stop him from leaving. That strangled sound of pain sounded so much worse than when he was outright screaming. He guided his son back to the chair, and went to move the sleeve only to have his hands batted away.

"Don't, it's fine, the jerking motion just moved it." Mutt said through gritted teeth. Indiana backed off but sat down closer to his son than he had been before.

"Look Mutt, maybe I did ride you too hard about school. Maybe I did put the idea into your head that I wouldn't have believed you if you brought this to me, but you still should have said something."

"Well, I didn't, and I can't change that." Mutt pointed out. He resisted the urge to point out that he still wouldn't have known if he hadn't fallen asleep. Part of him wished his father had not found out. It would have made things so much easier. He was tired and didn't want to argue anymore.

"Your right, you can't change the past, so there's no reason to dwell on it. You look tired, why don't you take a couple Advil and head to bed." Indiana offered. Mutt hesitated for a moment before nodding. He bid him a weary good night and shuffled into his room. Indiana took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Maybe he would let Mutt stay home tomorrow to recover

a bit.

The next morning, Mutt was up at five am. He was no more rested than he had been, his throbbing shoulder keeping him awake for a good portion of the night. He had dragged himself out of bed by six and changed into his clothes for school. He was already in the kitchen working on a bowl of cereal when his father joined him. Indiana seemed to eye him for a moment.

"You can stay home today if you want to." His father offered, and for a moment, Mutt almost took him up on it. He shook his head however.

"That's ok, I really should go." Mutt finished off his cereal and washed out the bowl, before glancing at the clock. "I'm just going to grab my stuff and head to school; I'll talk to you tonight." With that, Mutt was gone. Indiana listened to the sound of his son's bike fade into the distance before picking up the phone and dialing his son's school.

Mutt knew something was wrong when he walked into school. The students were whispering to each other and sharing slightly scared looks. Mutt had a sinking suspicion he should have stayed home. Little did he know what was waiting for him as the day would progress.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize.

Author Notes: Thank you to Beguile once again, for beta reading for me! Thank you to all the reviewers who have enjoyed this story so far, I'm so sorry it's taking me so long to update.

The Day After

Mutt felt unease drop heavily into the pit of his stomach. Something bad had happened, he could tell by the way the students were acting. Most of them where skittish, looking over their shoulders, and they talked in tight huddles. Someone caught his arm as he tried to walk by. He turned to see the boy who sat next to him in English class. He was a shy, quiet boy who Mutt had only spoken to on a handful of occasions.

"Someone ratted." He told Mutt quietly, releasing his arm. "Someone called the principal about a teacher who was hitting the students with a ruler. It didn't take them long to figure out which teacher they meant. Xanderson was in a meeting this morning, but no action is being taken right now. He'll still be teaching all his classes."

Mutt groaned but nodded his thanks. He already knew, somehow he knew, it was his father's doing. His own father was going to be responsible for someone getting seriously hurt because Xanderson was a psychopath on a power trip. Xanderson was going to want to prove that he was above that, he was smarter than that. Mutt gave the boy a quick glance before heading further down he hall. If he was honest with himself, he would admit he wanted to hop back onto his bike and go back home. The stubborn part of him would not allow it however.

His classes flew by in the morning and Mutt found himself dragging his feet as he ventured into Xanderson's class. The teacher greeted them with a smile from behind his desk. It was a bad omen, and the students exchanged several uneasy looks. More than one sympathetic look was thrown towards Mutt. Xanderson jerked a thumb behind him, towards the board, and the students obediently began to copy the notes. Halfway through class, Xanderson began making his way though the rows of students looking over their work, occasionally rapping his ruler across someone's desk. The first time, he breezed past Mutt, and the young man released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

The second pass, Mutt was not so lucky. Xanderson leaned over him, putting a hand his shoulder in the pretense of balancing himself. Mutt barely managed to strangle the cry in his throat, so it came out more like a grunt. Xanderson knew that he was hurting him, Mutt was sure of it. He was probably delighting in painful twitching of Mutt's arm. Pointing out a

misspelling, the ruler was brought down across his knuckles, cracking them open. Mutt's shoulder was given one more to rough squeeze before Xanderson moved down the row.

By the time class was over, Mutt had been visited two more times. Once, Xanderson simply drew the ruler across Mutt's back. It didn't hurt him, but it did make him cringe slightly at the contact. The last, right before class ended, Xanderson felt the need to scold him for letting blood get on his notes. He had not been given opportunity to clean up his hand, and blood had trickled down and splayed across his fingers. That time, a light tap across his wrist had been given, almost to light. Mutt didn't dare look up, and was the first one out of his seat and out the door when the bell sounded.

He went straight to the nurse and asked her to bandage it up. She did so without question, only a sympathetic look in the students' direction. He skipped lunch and attended the rest of his classes, sitting in the very back of the room. He felt anger and pain pulse through him. His father had done exactly the opposite of what he had asked. His father was right: a kid was

going to end up in the hospital. He was going to end up in the hospital if he had to endure much more of this torment. By the end of the day, Mutt wanted nothing more than to go home and never go back to school again.

Indy was waiting for him when he got home. Without having to be told anything, Mutt sat down in the living room. His father sat down, then frowned at the site of his hand. "What happened to your hand?" He asked in concern, reaching forward to check, but Mutt pulled his hand away.

"You happened." Mutt muttered sullenly.

"What? Are you talking about this morning? Yes, I called the principal; something had to be done."

"I asked you not to call, and you did anyway. They did exactly what I said they were going to. He had a meeting in the morning, then was right back to teaching classes. He was just angry someone told. Stay out of it, I mean it. You're going to make it worse if you keep calling!"

"They can't just…"

"They can, and they did," Mutt cut him off. "You're right about one thing though if you keep calling, there's a good chance he's going to put a kid in the hospital."

Indiana had nothing to say to that.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize.

Author Notes: Ok, I'm really sorry for such a heinously long wait. I've been really busy as of late, and with the holidays coming I don't see things getting any less stressful anytime soon. Please take this as your warning that it may take a while for the chapters to come out. I'm sorry and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The Lecture

Indiana's speechlessness had not lasted for very long. In fact, Mutt would wager it took less than sixty seconds for his father to start up again. Mutt had taken to calling this particular spot on the couch his lecture spot. It seemed to be where he sat every time he received a long drawn out lecture from his father, who in Mutt's opinion didn't even know what he was talking about.

Mutt had gotten fairly good at blocking his father's voice out when he droned on and on about whatever it was currently he felt his son just simply had to know. He had tuned Indiana out about half way through his speech about how it was his responsibility to make sure this didn't happen to anyone else or something like that. Part of his father's speech suddenly penetrated his hearing, causing him to snap back to attention.

"I'll go down to the school first thing tomorrow morning." Indiana was ranting and Mutt sat up a bit straighter.

"Did you listen at all?" He demanded. "They didn't do anything the first time, what makes you think they'll do something if you just go down there?"

"It's much easier to ignore someone who just calls in; I think you should go with me."

"No." Mutt said flatly. What his father was talking about was suicide; there was no way Mutt was going to do that.

"Listen Kid," Indiana said his patients beginning to fray. "They can't ignore that kind of bruising or the cuts you've gotten."

"They've done a pretty good job of it so far." Mutt shot back, sinking as far back as the cushions of the couch allowed him. Did his father not realize he was making his son a walking target? If he went down there, then Xanderson's suspicions that it was him would be confirmed. He might as well paint a big bulls eye right on his back.

"Is there a particular reason you don't even seem to be trying to stop him?" Indiana snapped. "Are you content to just sit there and take it? What were you going to just wait until the year was over and then tell us about what had happened?"

"I wasn't going to tell you at all." Mutt mumbled his eyes narrowed however. "I'm not just sitting there and taking it. I actually was going to try and find out who else it was, but you had to go riding in on your white horse and save the day. Well guess what pops, you made it ten times worse! There's no way anyone is going to come forward after today!"

"Why, what happened?" Indiana asked suddenly concern rearing up again. Mutt shook his head and folded his arms across his chest definatly. There was no way he was going to give his father any more ammunition to go down to the school. Mutt took a good look at his father's face and he knew that no amount of protest or belligerence on his part would change his father's mind. A heavy feeling of resignation settled into the pity of Mutt's stomach, and he swallowed thickly. There was nothing more he could do; someone was going to get hurt because his father couldn't keep his big mouth shut.

Mutt fell into a self induced silence; his father was pacing back and forth

"Are you even listening to me?" Indiana demanded and Mutt glanced up before sighing.

"No." He told him, before standing up and leaving the room. Indiana moved to stop his son, before remembering what had happened the last time he did that. Instead he watched his son disappear out the front door, and he heard the sound of the motorcycle roaring away. Indiana paused briefly taking a few soothing breaths before checking the time. He still had plenty of time, so he grabbed his keys and headed out the front door. He was going to go down to the school, this matter couldn't wait any longer.


End file.
